


Steve

by anoncanon



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoncanon/pseuds/anoncanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is still adjusting to this situation, with the "new" Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve

The sun was slowly setting over the military camp, its rays barely making a difference to the dim lighting of the room. It was small, meant to be temporary, with just enough space for a standard issue military bed, a small desk with a metal lamp on it, a chair and a trunk.

And one very unique, recognizable, blue, red and silver round shield.

Bucky was sitting across the bed, back up against the wall. His legs were folded up and he was using them as a makeshift surface to prop open his journal, with his bootless feet planted on the edge of the mattress. Steve Rogers, _Captain America_ , sat at the small desk, his open sketchbook lit by the lamp. His attention was focused on the page, his pencil working in precise, definite strokes.

Their discussion had naturally died out as Steve had gotten more invested in his drawing and Bucky in his writing, settling for a comfortable and familiar silent companionship.

Though Bucky was more lost in thoughts than writing.

When he had first seen the new Steve, back at the Hydra factory, it had taken him but a fraction of a second to recognize the man, even if the visuals weren’t quite as memory painted them. In his state of mind at the time, he had almost expected the muscles and height to come off with the costume. Sure, he had seen the comics and the posters, but those could be, what’s it called, _artistic renditions_. He _knew_ Steve Rogers, had grown up with him. They had exchanged letters, both before and after Steve was part of the super-soldier experiment, and it hadn’t betrayed any real change.

Looking at him now, though, told a different story.

Steve looked up quickly at Bucky, smiled, then returned to his drawing. Bucky realized he had been staring fixedly at Steve and not writing. He looked down at his journal, the current page blank but for the date, and set his pen to paper again. As he started recording the events from their earlier mission, his mind wandered off again, his hand stopping mid-word.

He thought back to the moment in the infirmary, as the medical staff was patching up their various scratches and wounds. How he had found himself, once again, unable to stop staring at Steve. He had to remind himself that this man, now taller and larger than him, was the scrawny, perpetually sick kid he had known as his best friend for as far back as he could remember. It was unsettling.

And later still, in the mess hall, the quantity of food this new Steve could make disappear. The fact he finished the first plate was already incongruous, but that he’d go twice for seconds was just surreal.

It had started to feel as it used to when he got to spend a quiet moment with Steve, like the one right now. They had talked and laughed just like before, except perhaps that now there was less frustration and impotence in Steve’s actions and demeanor. It was the little things, like looking up at him instead of down, or not being able to reach around him, that still felt unreal. It was getting used to these subtle changes that still threw him off at times. It was all good, though. Well, _mostly_.

There was also the situation with Agent Carter. Peggy. Steve’s looks had unfortunately always been the barrier in his relationships with women, even if Bucky wasn’t quite sure he understood why the women Steve had met stopped at that. The kid had a heart of gold, but he somehow never made it past the first, erroneous  impression that he was weak. Physically, he had been frail and ill, that much was true. His spirit, though, was the same then as it was today. With the way he looked now, the situation had been flipped on its head, with every set of eyes looking at him with admiration and, for some, sheer fancy.

Bucky’s thoughts brought him back again to when they had come back from the Hydra factory and Peggy had walked up to them. That instant, with Steve’s eyes locked to hers. Their banter. It had felt odd, like a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach. He remembers the gut reaction, to call for a cheer, hoping it would break the moment and how he couldn’t look at them when it failed. He had felt like an outsider, invisible, caught as a silent witness of something that didn’t yet fully register. The memory of how unnerved he had felt translated to the present moment. He shifted on the bed, repositioning his heels more firmly on the mattress before they slipped off.

To her credit, Peggy had believed and befriended Steve prior to his change, according to the letters Steve had sent to Bucky. If her inclination hadn’t been romantic before, it was hard to imagine it wouldn’t be now. Would she really refuse him? Would anyone? Steve had always possessed the qualities to make him the best of companion; now, he also looked the part.

It had always been the two of them -Steve and Bucky- working through whatever life threw at them. Until war erupted and Bucky got into the army. Obviously, with the way his health was before, old Steve couldn’t follow no matter how much he tried and had to stay behind, feeling useless and helpless.

In a way they could never have imagined, Steve’s future had shifted drastically. Consequently, so had Bucky’s. Now, Bucky had to share. Where before it had been just Steve and him, now he had to let the world have their Captain America. From fighting a drunk bully behind a theater (and getting his ass kicked) to going up against the great evil of Hydra (and kicking their collective asses). Steve, previously an absolute nobody for everyone but Bucky, currently the face all over the newspapers in America. And Bucky wondered, not without dread, if perhaps… perhaps Steve didn’t need him anymore. Now that he had all of… _this_.

The uneasy feeling flared again and Bucky frowned. His eyes were still on Steve, though unfocused. Steve looked up from his sketchbook and looked at Bucky, first with a smile but then his expression shifted to slight concern.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asked quietly.

The voice startled Bucky, who then locked eyes with the other man.

“I’m just… trying to sort out what to write,” he replied. Then, in a mock tone as if narrating from his journal, “ _I had to save Steve’s sorry ass again. He’s not gonna make it for long as Captain America if he can’t pay more attention to his surroundings._ ”

“ _But then he saved my skin_ ,” continued Steve, in a similar mock narration tone, “ _by throwing his shield at the Hydra soldier sneaking up on me._ ”

Bucky glared at him.

Steve shrugged, “I can finally pay you back for all the times you spared me the worst of a beating.”

“Funny how it’s only now that you can hold your own in a fight that you are careful about picking them”.

Steve gave him a lopsided grin, then returned to his drawing with the focus of someone who is almost finished with a task.

Simply put, Steve was the same yet different. And Bucky felt that was also true for him. No matter the changes, it remained that Steve was his dearest friend. He would be there for him and make sure Steve was safe, as he always had. Even if Steve might not need it as much anymore. _Or_ , Bucky sighed, _at all_.

There was a knock on the door, and looking up Bucky saw a camp aide standing in the doorway, looking expectantly at Steve.

“Captain Rogers, you’re needed in the Colonel’s tent.”

Steve nodded and thanked the man, who nodded back before leaving. In a single motion, he closed his sketchbook and got up. One look at Bucky, a small nod, a hint of a smile, and he strode out.

Bucky looked at the empty doorway for a second, before finally going back to his journal. His previous aborted attempt at writing down the day’s event had resulted in a big blotch of ink in the middle of a line. Starting at the next line that wasn’t interrupted by the blot, he started putting down bland sentences relating today’s mission.

A tank rolled by, close enough to cause everything to shake. Steve’s sketchbook slowly started inching toward the table’s edge, until it finally fell down, landing on its pages with a flop. Bucky looked at it for a second before putting down his journal and moving to sit on the mattress’ edge. He slid his feet into his untied boots and got up, walking the few steps to the table to pick up the book from the floor. He dusted it off and set right the pages that had been creased by the fall.

He took a look at the drawings on a page. A landscape, a tree. On the next page was an unfinished drawing of Peggy. The one after that had a map and notes about a mission. Bucky kept turning the pages, slowly, until he turned a page and stared at a drawing of himself. He quickly turned to the next page, featuring another Peggy, then just flipped through the rest of the pages. He got to the last drawing, the one Steve had been working on just now, and stopped.

It was a drawing of Bucky, sitting on the bed as he had been just a moment ago. He had not realized Steve was drawing him. It was a good likeness. Bucky couldn’t help the smile, or the creeping blush, or the weird feeling in his guts. It clicked then, that no matter what, everything was gonna be alright.

After all, Steve and him, it’s to the end of the line.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this isn't too full of rubbish T_T
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)   
> Bucky is ♥


End file.
